


with emptiness by my side

by imgoingtocrash



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood and Injury, Cassian begrudgingly tolerates Han Solo, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Rogue One, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash
Summary: ""Sergeant," he says. "When you make it off of this ship, you can die with your little boyfriend as many times as you like." He makes sure not to say if, only when.She laughs, a grunt that furrows her brow. "I've never called him that.” Not like Han's not supposed to know, that somewhere along the line he’s supposed to have gone blind. It's not a secret, but it is more private than not. Something he’s only noticed because he saw it from the start."An injured Jyn reflects on what almost was on Scarif. Han almost admires whatever is going on between Sergeant Erso and Captain Andor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t know I’d be writing more fic like this, but here we are. I blame it on the Jyn and Cassian Funko Pop figurines I bought myself. Also how much I desperately love headcanons about Han/Luke/Leia interacting with the Rogue One crew.
> 
> Title from Troublemaker by Grizfolk.

"We were supposed to die," she says, interrupted by a scream breaking through her lips with a spatter of blood—farking _shit_ , how does someone so tiny have so much blood?

"Not today, kid," Han presses the once off-white rag into her side a little harder. He isn't used to this role, patching others up when a job goes bad, but here they are in the back of a U-Wing making do without a medical suite.

She shakes her head, really maybe just tries to, punctuates the movement with the clap of her teeth coming together. "On Scarif,” comes out between them.

And force, she really must be in bad shape if she's talking about anything that isn't mission, smuggled alcohol, or Rebellion related. She's close-lipped about most things, Sergeant Jyn Erso, only peppering in details of her life as it suits her. 

He'll admit that he likes her a lot more than the usual wide-eyed cadets that go all slack-jawed when he so much as passes by.

You'd think after 3 years—but no. The medal still collects dust in his bunk and it changed him, Luke and Leia and the Death Star and all that came after. That means going on Alliance missions with Erso and anyone else they assign him without so much as asking his opinion on the matter.

"Cassian, he—he stood there with me on the beach and that's how we were supposed to die." Erso clenches his hands under her own, blood-caked and shaking.

He knows little about Captain Cassian Andor other than in relation to Erso. He knows the Captain doesn't like him. Underneath the Intelligence Unit perfected looks of passivity, he thinks Andor would deck him one if given the chance. Han has known too many men that want to punch him in the face not to know that look. As to why...

  

("He thinks you're selfish," Erso says, hefting a crate up into the cargo hold. "He heard you ran before, back when they asked for your help with the Death Star."

"I came back!" he retaliates, because really, Luke Skywalker and the Princess have had their bright-eyed claws dug under Han's skin since they met. He was always going to come back. 

The Sergeant shrugs, dusting off her hands and reaching for a tool box. "He's made up his mind."

"Then why does he keep looking at me like that?" he asks, because honestly it's creeping him out how Andor’s eyes leave the datapad in front of him for only a second, towards the borrowed ship, just to refocus back to his reading. Does that even count as reading?

"He's not looking at _you._ ” She shakes her head as she passes him back up the ramp and he watches Captain Andor follow her short figure until she's out of view.)

 

"I wanted to die with him," she admits, the truth dragging out of her chest with a wet cough. _Don't cough up blood_ , he thinks, looks to the pilot looking at them, wonders what he thinks he's doing not plotting the fastest course to Hoth already. Maybe he has. How long have they been on the floor of the hull applying pressure? _Too long_ , he decides.

"Sergeant," he says. "When you make it off of this ship, you can die with your little boyfriend as many times as you like." He makes sure not to say if, only when.

She laughs, a grunt that furrows her brow, "I've never called him that.” Not like Han's not supposed to know, that somewhere along the line he’s supposed to have gone blind. It's not a secret, but it is more private than not. Something he’s only noticed because he saw it from the start.

  

(The celebration of the Death Star's destruction starts in the hangar as soon as they land on Yavin IV. He's being pulled into hugs, patted on the shoulder, and there are screams of joy echoing against the walls.

Within the chaos 2 limping figures, arms wrapped in support and partially bandaged, stumble into the cacophony. The smaller one, a woman, grabs a bellowing fighter pilot's arm and only lets him go to lock eyes with the man leaning against her side.

He watches for a moment, their quiet embrace among the chaos. How they hug without leaving a body part untouched and sink to the floor like their bodies are surrendering to artificial gravity. The female cries, sobs shaking her shoulders and being swallowed by the din of celebratory elation.

The mob around him pushes towards what he thinks is the mess hall and as he passes the man on the ground says "Your father would have been proud—“ before it's drowned out by the placement of a drink in his hand.

He only learns at the ceremony that Rogue One stole the plans, that there were losses on a now obliterated planet called Scarif, that the survivors have declined medals but accept the honor. He only catches their faces then, somber under the eyes of their Rebellion. He thinks maybe he knows now, why the infamous Jyn Erso’s first reaction to their victory was to cry.

When they formally meet a year later before a mission he doesn’t mention what he saw, but her face is filled with a recognition beyond the usual _yes, that Han Solo_ schtick he’s used to. He doesn’t even get the chance to nod before the famed Captain Andor, hailed by Leia for his many years of contribution to the Rebellion, stalks up behind her with a look that begs Han to even open his mouth. He turns towards the _Falcon_ instead.)

 

"Well," he starts, chancing a look at the cockpit and seeing the white expanse of something that’s starting to feel too much like home. "Now you have something to do when this wound heals."

She lets out a breath, sitting up despite his noises of protest, and damn if this girl isn’t stubborn like every other woman he's ever admired, a small voice in his head unhelpfully supplies. "He'll be angry," Erso sighs, as if put upon by the thought. "The bad wounds always—ugh—get him high-strung. As if he hasn't come to me with worse."

"Sounds like a pain in the ass," he quips as he feels the landing gear engage. Not long now.

"The biggest," she smiles, looks at the door expectantly as the Captain in question struts in with a medic on his tail, the fur of his coat billowing softly around his stoic face. She wasn’t wrong about him being angry.

“I’ve missed you so much I thought I was going to _die,_ " she jokes weakly, letting Andor hoist her onto a gurney with a quick movement. The Captain looks unimpressed with her wit.

"Not this time kiddo," Han says, patting her leg as the medical staff wheel her away.

"Not a child, Solo,” she calls, but her voice disappears, muffled by the icy caverns ahead.

Captain Andor turns for a second, examines the blood—her blood—on Han’s hands and sleeves. 

"Thank you," he states, no inflection past a quick nod as he turns the other direction to presumably follow Erso to the medbay.

It feels pretty good, Han thinks, to no longer have his jaw be the desired object of someone's fist. Good enough that he feels it earns him a celebratory drink.

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially going to be much more depressing, but 2 AM me decided to go a different route and I’m glad for it. I’ve considered a Cassian/Leia piece with a similar observing ‘Jyn and Cassian die together or not at all’ theme, but we’ll see where the inspiration strikes. Writing Han like this was an interesting enough experience for the moment.
> 
> As always, all kudos, comments, and bookmarks are appreciated! Thanks for reading.


End file.
